


Starved for Affection

by Doxx



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Amputation, Betrayal, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Body Horror, Cannibalism, Explicit Sexual Content, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Other, Vore, Yandere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:54:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24996451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doxx/pseuds/Doxx
Summary: Belphegor did not like you.However, you could not even begin to imagine how far his hatred and jealousy of your relationship with his twin would take him.Dark!Beel and Darker!Belphie and very dark themes.Gender neutral main character with they/them pronouns.
Relationships: Beelzebub & Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 80





	Starved for Affection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [camakitsune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/camakitsune/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Bee Hotel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24939256) by [camakitsune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/camakitsune/pseuds/camakitsune). 



> Warnings for cannibalism/vore, body horror, betrayal, gore, amputation, and very dark themes. Dark!Beel and Darker!Belphie act like true demons in this story. 
> 
> Spoiler warnings for in-game chapter 15 to 20 inclusive.
> 
> Gender neutral main character, with they/them pronouns. The main character is sometimes referred to as it, but as a degradation, and NOT a pronoun of their choice.

Belphegor did not like you.

The fact that in another timeline he murdered you should have been enough, but he compounded on his past crimes by never really getting over his hatred of humans. 

It was the little things, like how his eyes would narrow when you walked in a room, or that he would lose interest in a conversation when you started to speak. 

That would have been fine. You didn't need to get on with every single demon in the Devildom, and there was space enough in the House of Lamentation you could avoid those you'd rather not spend time with.

Except, Belphegor and Beel shared a room, and Beel was your most favoured of the demon brothers.

Shacking up with Beel had been a regular occurrence, but Belphegor's return made things not just awkward, but downright disastrous for your sex drive.

He'd glare at you, saying nothing, till you gave up on any sort of bedroom escapades and retreated to the kitchen with Beel in tow.

“What is his problem!?” you complained. 

“He is jealous.” answered Beel, sadly, as he rummaged through the fridge. Of course, you'd forgotten about the strange sympathetic emotional bond between the twins.

You wonder if he ever felt the same from Belphegor, his sibling's distaste for you flowing through and tainting his affections....

You needed somewhere private, somewhere you and Beelzebub would not be disturbed. 

Then you remembered the attic, and figured that Belphegor would be reluctant to step foot in his once-prison cell. So it was that you and Beel would go upstairs, and either sit and talk, or eat snacks, or have toe-tingling fantastic sex.

Which probably made Belphegor all the more jealous, but you could not find it in yourself to care. 

Time passed, and the year at RAD came to a close, and you were told that your time was up in the Devildom. There were tearful goodbyes, and hugs all round, and Beel had held you so tight your bones creaked.

It was a bitter-sweet return to your home. You missed Beel, above all the others, but could not shake the fact that he was a demon, ageless and inhuman, and told yourself this was for the best. You would always treasure your time together, but it was unsustainable as a serious long-term relationship.

You settled back into human routines, and soon started move on with your life. Things were strange back in the human world, until they were not, and it did not take long before you stopped marvelling at the sunshine, or cease to checking and double checking everything you eat (you still recalled the time you thought you were eating a fried chicken wing, till it crunched brittle between your teeth; turns out there is no amount of hot sauce to improve the flavour of a deep fired centipede!).

Days passed to weeks to months.

Then, in your dreams, Belphegor comes to visit. 

You tense, your senses hazy, as you watch him approach. The scenery shifts to the entrance hallway of the House of Lamentation, but the details flicker and blur together. His expression is calm, and he looks you over. Finally, he nods with a smile. 

You don't think he has ever smiled at you before.

“It worked. Good.”

“What is this....?” You wave a hand round, and it feels strange to feel no air about you. You feel weightless, incorporeal. Meanwhile Belphegor stands steady on the ground, the most real thing in your field of vision.

“You are sleeping, dreaming, and I came to speak with you.”

“Why on earth would you of all demons want to speak with me, a lowly disgusting human?”

Belphegor shuffles from foot to foot, the dream-scape rippling beneath his feet.

“I come on Beelzebub's behalf.”

You scan round, “Where is he then?”

“He doesn't know I am here... but he has not been the same since you left. He broods, and sulks, and doesn't seem interested in anything anymore. No matter what I do, he will not cheer....” Belphegor hugs his arms, and despite not much liking him, you feel a pang that he feels so strongly for his twin he is prepared to try and help even though he dislikes you.

It feels odd to have a demon lord pine after you, but touching as well. “It's only been a couple months, and I get phone calls every few days. Surely he does not miss me that much...”

Belphegor scowls, “Stupid human, time flows differently between worlds. It might have just been months for you, but it has been years down here.”

His face shifts, as he recalls he is trying to enlist your assistance. His scowl smooths out, and his eyes turn pleading.

“I would not ask, if I did not think it so important to Beel. He rarely smiles anymore, and even his appetite is diminished. Will you come visit him?”

_Years._ You take a moment to process that. 

It figures. Belphegor is hardly your biggest fan, and you can tell that he loathes having to come and ask something of you. It would have taken long months before he would even consider the notion, and yeah, probably years before he would deem it a viable option.

Beel must really be suffering, and though it hurts that this is the first you've heard of it, you cannot stand by and let him stay so unhappy.

“Ok. Yes. I'll visit Beel.”

Belphegor nods, once, a small token of his reluctant gratitude. Things start to shift around you. 

You'd assumed he meant in dreams, as Belphegor had come to you, but no sooner than you agreed things start to swim around you, spinning and fast and making you feel slightly sick. You feel heavy, as you find yourself once more within your body, and real, and in the midst of powerful magics. There is a bright flash, and a feeling of rushing air, and you blink blearily, to find yourself standing in the attic of the House of Lamentation. Really in the attic, with the ground solid underfoot, and Belphegor holding out his hands in conjuration. He shakes with the effort, and the glyphs and sigils smoke and singe where they have been drawn into the floor boards. 

“What?! No! You tricked me!” your voice raises to a shout, as Belphegor completes the spell to secure you in the demon realm. 

He looks exhausted, and frowns at you. “You agreed. No trickery here.”

“Send me back!”

You consider your pact with him, and contemplate using it. You rarely wield the power, but it is comforting to know you _could_.

Belphegor sighs, shaking his head, “Even if I wanted to, I could not. I cannot cast again so soon, and will need time to gather the power needed to fuel the spell.”

You drop your arms in a slump, angry but accepting the truth of what he says.

“It was no small feat to bring you here, and you _are_ here now. Why not at least do what you came here for and let Beel see you....” then quietly, “Please?”

“Fine!” You are not happy with your sudden relocation (though you have had practice at adapting quickly to a new situation), and you move to the doorway.

“Stop!” he calls, too late, as your hands hits against a barrier. You push, but find that you cannot push through the seal. You look back at Belphegor, arms folded, growing more and more irate by the second.

He explains; “Only me and Beel can enter and leave. You ought to stay up here, where its quiet. I won't have Lucifer find you and send you back before Beel has been able to have time with you.”

He then softens, and rubs against his arm, “I wanted it to be a surprise for him. He has been so sad... I just wanted him to be happy again...”

He seems sincere, and so, despite yourself, you step away from the door.

“Go fetch him up then.”

Belphegor looks to you, and the hand rubbing his arm tightens to a grip, as he avoids your eyes.

“There is one more thing....”

You roll your eyes, “of course there is. What now?”

“i don't want the others to know you are here. They'll get in the way, and Beel won't get as much time with you alone. So we have to do something about your pacts with my brothers; the longer you are here, the more chance they'll sense you through the pacts.”

“You want me to break my pacts?”

He scoffs, “No! Breaking a pact would almost certainly alert them that something was up! Just mute them for a bit, a day or two at most.” He hands you a piece of parchment, “Here, I wrote you out instructions on how do to it.”

You scan over the instructions. Its a spell, and a fairly simple incantation. It is indeed non-permanent, and doesn't have any of the words or gestures that would indicate danger to you or the brothers on the other side of the pact. 

So far, Belphegor has seemed entirely reasonable, and you hate to admit it, but his request makes sense. 

You start to cast, and speak the words, “A whispered voice, unheard in the dark. I cast out my power to those of my pacts.”

You shape your hands into the gesture of silence.

“Be silent, and hushed. For the span of one day, our pacts will not sound, our calls unanswered. This I dictate, this I command.”

Rather than a surge of power, you feel what little you have in the way of magic ebb, and for a moment you wonder if the spell was successful. You feel no different. 

“Did it... work?”

Belphegor concentrates, and then looks to you. “Could you hear that?”

You shake your head, you heard nothing.

“Then it worked!” Belphegor seems pleased, and you allow yourself a small smile. 

“Now,” you say firmly, done with distractions, “Beel.”

Belphegor nods and steps out, his pace rapid. You settle down on the bed, and wait. 

It does not take long.

Belphegor has his hands over Beel's eyes as he carefully guides him up the stairs. Beelzebub is talking as he walks in through the doorway.

“But what _kind_ of surprise? Oh! Did you get me a pot of hell-sauce noddles..?”

“Better than that....”

“Ten pots of noodles...?”

Belphegor lifts his hands, and smiles brightly. “Surprise! I'd just sorry I did not think to gift-wrap it.”

Beel stares at you, amazed, and you can see that the time apart has taken a toll. 

His clothes were always baggy but now hang from his frame. He does not stand so tall, and looks like he has had trouble sleeping, dark smudges under both eyes. His skin looks sallow, and most alarmingly, his face looks thinner, and pinched round his jaw and cheeks. 

You can almost forgive Belphegor calling you an 'it', when he has at least taken action to help his twin. You wonder why no-one had thought to ask you to come sooner.

“It's you, it's really you!”

You are pulled from your feet, Beel's strength still apparent as you are spun round in a tight embrace.

“I am missed you so much! You look just like I remember!” You feel him inhale by your ear, nuzzling into your neck, “You even smell just as good....”

His stomach rumbles, and he lets you down. He has stopped smiling.

“Don't tell me... you're hungry!” you laugh, trying to lift the mood and cheer him up again.

“Sort of... but food doesn't taste as good when you are not around. I haven't been in the mood to eat like I used to....”

You can only imagine how hard that must have been for him, to not only feel hungry all the time, but have food not satisfy him. 

“Well I am here now, for a little while. We can get take-out and snacks, and catch up!”

“Just a little while? You are not here to stay?” he looks crestfallen, and you wince at the sight.

“No... I can't stay here. But I can come visit from time to time!”

You step forwards to hug him again, and he takes a step back, away from you. He turns to Belphegor, uncertain, “Not sure this is such a good idea Belphie...” he glances to you, his jaw tight with tension, “I've missed you so much, not sure I can trust myself to hold back....”

Belphegor seem unconcerned, and goes to his twin and hugs round his board shoulders.  
“It is fine... I brought them here for you, just you... So go on.... enjoy your present.”

He pushes Beel in your direction, and suddenly you are swept down across a bed, Beel's lips kissing across your cheek, your neck, your mouth. He clings to you, and there is a feverish franticness to his kisses, as if you might evaporate if he is not quick enough. His hands move down your back, and he tugs at your clothes. 

You hear stitches rip. 

You squirm under him, but his weight holds you down. “What about Belphegor!?” you yelp, cheeks flushed high with both passion and embarrassment.

“Oh don't mind me!” you hear, called out from the other side of the room, “I won't stand in the way of your happy reunion!”

It feels odd, to have Belphegor in the room while you are making out with his twin, but Beel does not seem to mind, and his hands on your body soon bring your focus on to him, and him only. His strong fingers and warm breath, the little grunts as he brings you close against his chest, and the frustrated noises as he tries to caress more of your skin.

You might not be quite so desperate, but you have missed this closeness as well.

You manage to kick free of your shoes, before Beel tries to pull your feet off trying to remove your clothes. You even manage to coax him to slow, just for a moment to get his shirt off, exposing his chest. There is less definition, but it remains impressive, solid muscle-mass warm under your hands.

Your cheek, your neck have become damp with kisses, and you cup Beel's head in your hands. You note that his hair is not as soft as it was before. He really has not been taking care of himself in your absence.

“Beel, sweet Beel, I missed you too....”

He dives in for another kiss, pushing past your hands, so you bring them to his shoulders instead, feeling the way his muscles roll under skin.

He is speaking, or trying to, but between the fact that he seems to be kissing you all over like he is in a competition, his words are fragmented and hard to make out.

You pick up the occasional 'yesss' and 'love' and 'mine', but everything else is lost to his apparent rush to touch you all over. 

The sounds, however, send pleasant shivers down your spine. Little gasps and groans as he presses himself against your skin, and soft 'hmm's as he clasps his fingers about your body. 

The rest of your clothes are taken, or pulled, or ripped off and strewn about, as Beel presses down against you, like he wants to make a space for you to stay within his chest. Next to his heart.

Beel had always been strong in bed, and occasionally a little rough when things got really heated (which you always had to reassure was fine, that you in fact enjoyed it!) but this was a new level of neediness, something primal and painful. 

He clings to you like a demon drowning, no, like a demon _starving_. Like he is scared that at any moment, you will leave again, and he will be left alone and wanting.

You make a vow to yourself in that moment, to find a way to visit more regularly, to try and sooth the pain of separation.

Beel though, then grips at your hips, and shifts his head and body, till all you can see is his red shaggy hair down between your legs.

Every thought is flung from your mind, as you feel his tongue against you. 

Beel's tongue deserves sonnets writ about it, poetry and power ballads too. Long and dexterous, and just a little bit rougher than a humans', and you can feel him taste you in your most intimate place.

His tongue lathes at you, lapping and lapping and curling and lapping, till you feel it start to push inside. 

Your toes flex as you feel him mouth against you, lips upon your skin as he strains to lick deeper, ever deeper.

Then, with one hand pushing down his trousers and smalls, and the other bracing against your hip, you feel him line up his thick dick against your opening. 

Saliva slick, you are not sure you can take the avatar of gluttony, no matter how turned on you both are. You are about to say as much, when Beelzebub bucks his hips, plunging into your body.

It _hurts_ , as you twist to try an accommodate him, struggling with the heft of his cock. Your breath is knocked from you, and he presses in, the pleasure/pain of such a stretch almost more than you can bear. 

“So tight, feels so good round me....”

You stretch your hips, and try to allow him entry. Soon the pain eases, but does not dissipate entirely, and you know you are going to ache in the morning. 

Beel's face however, rapturous, twisted horns emerging, steals what is left of your breath. You had forgotten how stunning he looks in his demonic form, and as you feel him press against you, and gasp into the crook of your neck.

He clutches at you, claws prickling at your hips, and turns to look at you. His violet eyes are wide, and his expression torn between pleading and pained.

“Can I? Please? Please, I want to... so much.... Wanted to for so long.... Wanted you...”

Much as you know you might regret it in the morning whenever you sit down, you cannot deny him his release. You also figure, the sooner he cums, the sooner he might calm down enough to have a proper conversation with.

“Yes. Yes Beel, you can.”

With a low growl he draws back slightly, then forwards, not pounding you as deep or as harshly as you'd feared. 

Then you feel teeth close round your shoulder. 

No little nibble of affection, this was a bite, and you feel your skin break apart under the sharp points of fangs. You thrash, but are held down as you feel Beel's jaw working against you, pulling at the captured mouthful.

You don't have words, don't have air to scream, when you see him pull back, his mouth bloodied and _chewing_.

You gape as you see your flesh and skin reduced to meat and mess within his maw. 

Fear clamps your throat shut, but you struggle against him, only to have him dip down for a second bite. As he does so, you feel his dick jut into you, deeper this time. 

You manage, with great effort, to let out a low wail, as you see that there is bone showing at your shoulder joint. 

“So delicious... so, so good....” blood drips from Beel's mouth as he whispers to you, “I've been so hungry... famished, ravenous.... _starving_. And you taste wonderful....”

Then, in a low voice, almost a confession, “i want _more_....”

You shudder, pieces suddenly clicking into place. No-one called you back here, because it clearly wasn't safe for you. The avatar of gluttony, who always used to remark on how tasty you looked, had lost his resolve and control.

Gone was the gentle Beel who had blushed when he kissed against your cheek for the first time, or cheered when you brought out a plate of snacks when watching a movie. Beel who had held you through the night, and stroked your hair, and made you feel safe and warm.

This was a demon, wild and wicked and feral, and he was hungry.

“Beel, stop this!” When he shows no signs of hearing you, you pull on the pact, desperate, “Beelzebub, I command you! Stop!”

Nothing happens. 

Then, Belphegor laughs. You had forgotten that he was still in the room. “Are you so stupid to try and use your pact? You silenced it, remember? Silly little human....”

Beel bites down again, and you hear as your muscles and tendons and nerves tear when he takes a further chunk from your ruined shoulder. Your hand feels limp and cold, and either terror or shock has numbed you to the pain which you are sure you should be feeling.

Powerless, you plead, “No... Please Beel...”

Beel, his eyes dark, and still rutting into you, pays you no heed. He opens his mouth again, and you feel his breath against what remains of your skin, when Belphegor says “Stop.”

Turning, a snarl from Beelzebub's throat, and Belphegor tips his head to the side. 

“Brother dearest, too much raw meat is not good for you. It will not sit well in your stomach.”

Your words might have have no impact, but Belphegor's do, and Beel clamps his jaws shut, regarding you. 

“You are right.... Besides, they would taste better cooked...”

You shake your head with as much strength as you are able, but both demons ignore your pointless protests.

Belphegor gestures to the staircase, “Could always take a piece, and go to the kitchen, but then you might have to share..”

“No!” Beel moves fast and wraps his arms around you, clutching tight, “They are mine! All mine!”

You remember a lifetime ago making a joke that anyone who tried to take food away from Beelzebub should be ready to loose a finger, but suddenly the jest is not funny anymore.

“Yours...” Belphegor confirms, and then, over Beel's shoulder and giving you a wicked look, “...forever if you want....”

Belphegor turns his attention to his sibling, whispering into his ear. “I have cookware up here. You have have every last bit of them.” he gestures to you, as one might a stain on a carpet.  
“But we need to take precautions. The others don't understand how much you deserve to have them all to yourself... How much you _need_ them....”

Belphegor points to the door, sealed with his own magic.

“No-one but the two of us knows the human has returned... and _it_ cannot call for help. Lend me your power, and we'll seal the door shut so not even Diavolo can break it open. You can feast in peace.”

You feel panic within your chest; this was a plan, a trap. And you walked right into it... It is little consolation to see Beel too, entrapped and manipulated into terrible thoughts and deeds by his twin.

With a low possessive growl, Beel nods. He gets up, his dick has spent at some-point you did not even realise, you were in too much pain. You feel yourself drip hot and wet, and from your shoulder as well. 

You watch, will yourself to watch, as Beel walks over and joins Belphegor in adding more power to the seal upon the door. His wings buzz behind him, so fast it becomes a drone in your ears. 

You try to drag yourself away while they are distracted, but the pain and frailness of your shoulder means you only manage to leave a streak of red across the bed sheets.

There is a sense of static being grounded as the spell is completed, and Beelzebub is once more by your side, pulling you into his lap and looking at you fondly, even though he has your blood on his lips. 

Meanwhile, across the room, Belphegor pulls out a small camping stove and a frying pan. 

You feel your eyes water at the implication. The blur of tears makes it hard to see, but you can smell as the gas is turned on, and hear the whoosh of fire as it is set alight.

You look again to Beel, willing him to see the harm he is causing, willing him to see sense.

He dips down, and for a brief ludicrous moment you think he might be about to whisper some escape plan into your ear. He instead licks up against your cheek, tasting your tears and smacking his lips in pleasure.

“My love... This way, we'll be together forever.”

You struggle against him, as he brings his claws to your shoulder, and starts to dig a deep gorge down towards your elbow. No matter how you turn and twist, he has too firm a grip, and soon, you see a large cut of flesh be torn from your arm and laid down in the pan with a sickening sizzle.

You smell yourself fry, but worse, you watch as Beel shifts his gaze from your face, to the pan, till the cooking meat has captured his full attention. 

You are close enough you can hear him salivating, having to swallow thick mouthfuls lest he start drooling. 

When he can take it no more, he scoops the meat from the pan, holding the steaming chuck of what once was part of you in his claws. He burns his mouth in his haste, and you can see tiny ugly blisters form around his lips, as he guzzles down your flesh. It takes seconds, and next you know, you are being beset by greasy kisses, his lips dripping with juices.

“Darling, my darling... we are one now...”

His voice is so warm, so full of adoration, yet all you can see are his teeth.

Behind him, Belphegor pipes up, “Careful Beel, humans are weak. We'll have to take measures, to keep your meat alive and _fresh_ as possible. Here, take this.”

A strip of thin leather, and Belphegor instructs Beel to tie it high round what is left of your shoulder. A tourniquet, to stop you bleeding to death. 

You are not thankful.

“Here, now you can have whatever you like from the arm. And when its all eaten up, we'll pick the next part!” 

He is cheerful, and it chills you how much he must have hated you that this was his revenge. 

Piece by piece, you are consumed. 

It is a slow process, butchering a live carcass. The frying pan can only hold so much, and the small stove takes time to heat up. Belphegor has a range of spells and potions to keep you breathing, despite the shock and injuries, but he has to occasionally remind Beel to keep his tongue out of your wounds.

You remember how it curled inside you, under your skin, slick, chasing the taste of your blood, and whimper. 

Pain makes it hard to think, let alone talk, but you try to convince Beel to let you go. That just seems to incite him to eat faster, as if he will keep you with him no matter the cost.

Then, figuring that Belphegor is trying to punish both of you, you for being human, him for daring to love you, you try to reason with him. 

“You cannot trust Belphegor He means us both harm.”

“Don't be silly, he is my brother, and I love him. He'd never betray me.” 

Belphegor, ever present, slides in and pokes at the current piece of forearm in the pan, striped in thin slices, almost like bacon, “I certainly would never willingly leave you, brother mine!”

The twins hug together, over the pan, as Belphegor makes sure the meat does not burn.

Eventually, you abandon reason and logic. 

“You monster!” you spit, hurting and wanting to hurt in return, “I never thought you capable of such evil... I hate you!”

“What did you expect? After all, we _are_ demons...” Belphegor is snide in his mild tone.

Beel is softer spoken, “Dear one, please don't say such things. They make me sad.....” 

He lifts a hand and strokes against your hair, his touch devastatingly gentle.

You are about to tell him that you don't care for his 'sadness' when he is in the process of _eating_ you, when Belphegor chips in.

“We could always take the tongue next?” he cannot keep the glee from his voice, but Beel seems not to catch it. He looks at you, and contemplates the suggestion.

You fall silent. 

It's only for a day, you tell yourself. If you can last out 24 hours, you can use the pacts again. You can stop Beel and Belphegor. You can call for help.

You are in the Devildom, and have the favour of the demon prince, and the rest of the demon lord brothers. There is perhaps some magic or incantation that will be able to fix what has been done. You've cheated death before, so there must be something that will save you. 

You grit your teeth, and try to hold on to your sanity.

*-*-*-*-*

You are missing an arm, and a leg, and several chunks out of your shoulders and chest by the time you think it has been a day. 

You dare not wait longer. 

Beel is licking his lips, and considering your diminished body for the next piece of meat he wants, when you hold up your remaining hand and command through the pact.

“Stop this!” Your voice is weak to your ears.

Belphegor raises a brow, and grins. “Oh? Trying again to use your pact against us? It won't work.” he titters to himself, Beel's attention still on choosing the next cut of meat for the pan.   
“I failed to mention that since you are human, so when you said 'one day', it would be counted as a human world day. Times flows faster down here....”

He turns to Beelzebub, “Relax, dearest brother, you have at least three demon days, maybe four. No need to rush your meal....”

You let out one exhausted sob, as Beelzebub starts to cut at your remaining leg, below the knee, your thigh tourniquet'd off.

You know Beelzebub, or at least, you knew him. He has voracious appetite, and you will not last to be able to call upon the power of the pacts. He will eat, and eat, and eat, till there was nothing left. 

You don't know if he will ever be the same Beel who you once knew. Who you once loved, an arm and a leg and a lifetime ago.

He still loves you, which is perhaps the most painful part. He has nothing but soft and kind words for you, as if it helps sooth the sting to know that your sacrificed meat is juicy and tender, and truly delectable. When he meets your eyes, he is fond, and affectionate. 

When not cutting into you, he is caring, and his caresses sweet. 

You don't know enough about demons to know if he will feel guilt or remorse afterwards, and so you are torn between hoping he chokes on your bones, and wishing that the eventual realisation of what he has done does not destroy him. 

He wears his demonic form mostly now, claws and fangs better to slice and bite into flesh... into _meat_.

As you drift in and out of consciousness, each time missing more and more of your body, you have a bitter thought that after all this, you were right. That love between a demon and a human was unsustainable as a serious long-term relationship.

He holds you close, cradling your limp body to his chest. You think he might be trying to keep you warm, the shock having brought about a deep chill through what bones remain. From such a position, you can hear the gurgling of his stomach. It is hard to conjure more horror, but as you realise that you can hear the pieces of meat he has harvested from you being digested, indeed, you are struck with a fresh wave of fear at your fate. 

Also inevitability. 

You know that you are destined now, to end up in his belly. Either bite by bite, or, when there is too little left of you, swallowed whole, and as Beelzebub said, eventually broken down and built up anew, becoming part of him.

“My Sweet,” Beelzebub is talking to you, though it is becoming harder and harder to focus on his words, “... now I'll always have you with me, always....”

You have no strength to reply, not anymore, your thoughts fading to dark, but a tear rolls from your eye.

This too, Beelzebub greedily eats up.


End file.
